Vegas Lights
by FashionRox669
Summary: When the MyMusic gang (minus a few people) head down to Vegas to try to hit it big, they quickly learn why Vegas is called "Sin City".
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**_** The other day I was thinking about how Jacksfilms did that Vidcon contest last year where you had to make a PMS. I did a MyMusic parody (maybe you've seen it), and at the end the (remaining) staff, spoiler alert, decided to go to Vegas. So I then got to thinking about what would happen if some of the MyMusic staff got stuck in Vegas and the insanity that would ensue. That was basically a long way of saying, "**_**My name is Rachel Aspen and I'm a fourteen year old girl that likes writing about innocent people getting drunk and having sex!**_**"**_

**[**_**Rated T for drinking, swearing, and sexually suggestive dialogue. Some situations may creep into the M rating, so reader discretion is **_**very much**_** advised.**_**]**

_So do it (five, four, three, two,) one more time..._

Dear Not-Journal (Journal's are too mainstream.),

I'm lying on my back on the memory-foam mattress and goose down pillows, staring at the ceiling. Housekeeping had thrown away my human-sized paper bag I used to sleep in on our first night here, and management refused to fulfill my request for a new one. That means that I'll have to sleep on a luxurious bed every night in a five-star Vegas hotel until the owners will kick us out for not paying for our rooms or eating all the food. It really is as bad as it sounds.

I'm twirling my wedding band around on my finger. Damn, my life really is in shambles right now. None of this would have ever happened if MyMusic hadn't gone bankrupt. And some of you are still wondering why there won't be a third season.

It all started when our new office burned down. Many people had places to go: Metal had his new baby; Nerdcore had family to care for; and Techno and Dubstep... Only Hell knows what happened to them.

Now that my sad excuse of a business had really just boiled down to a posse, I decided to pack up my few belongings and head to Vegas. I figured that we could hit it big. After all, we couldn't get any more broke. Could we?

So, Country, Straight Edge, Scene, and I gathered all we could fit into my old school bus turned into an RV and drive down to Sin City. Apparently one of Scene's belongings is Flowchart, because he used his racked up vacation days and VP privileges to join us.

And that's where things really started to get weird.

-Indie


	2. Day One: The Bus

**Straight Edge's POV**

There's not a ton of room on the bus we rode, but there's plenty of room for five people. The first two rows of seating are still intact, and the rest is just a decent sized bed, a mini fridge, a recliner, and a port-a-potty crammed in the corner. No one really goes back there, though.

Indie drove the bus, as if that wasn't obvious. Flowchart and Scene sat behind him, and she's always nagging Indie about how much time there was left until we got to Vegas. I'd be shocked if she knew anymore about Vegas than was said in that Panic! at the Disco song. Of course, now we all know more about it then we'd like.

Country sat in the seat closest to the door. She claimed it was where the best Wi-Fi was and that it was her "God given duty" to tweet non-stop about the trip. I sat behind her, half because I wanted to use the internet, too, and half because it meant I got to watch everyone else and they couldn't watch me.

We left five hours ago at six in the evening after meeting at our old, burned down office. Luckily, Indie knows a lot of back roads. It must be the hipster way, or something. As a result, we've had a surprising lack of traffic and we might only have a few minutes left in this thing.

"Indie!" Scene squealed, again. "Indie, Indie! Are we there yet?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Really?"

"No! Now shut the fuck up!"

I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window. As much as I don't want to be on this bus anymore, what will we even do when we get to Vegas? I don't drink and I'm pretty sure we were all broke, so I was pretty sure it'd be boring as hell.

"Hey, Indie?" I heard Flowchart ask.

"Yes, Int- Flowchart?" he replied. I don't think he'll get used to that guy's new nickname.

"What hotel are we staying at once we get there?"

"Are you paying?" Indie quipped, though I wanted a serious answer. It was a decent question, and I probably would have asked it myself once we got there.

"No, I can't afford a Vegas hotel. Are you crazy?"

"Well I doubt anyone else here can afford one either, so I guess we're stuck on the bus to sleep. Unless you want to be outside all night."

"Outside?" Scene screamed. "But it's dark! And what if there are murderers or demons or demon murderers with butter knives?"

"Sweetie," Country said, "What good could a murderer do with butter knives?"

"Sebastian can do anything," Scene replied, her eyes going wide and her voice dropping.

I closed my eyes. "How about we figure out who all is going to sleep where, then? I think we could avoid sleeping outside if we planned a bit. Maybe a couple of us could get the bed, one on the recliner, one on the floor if we move the fridge, and someone on the seats."

"I'll take the floor!" Indie announced. "I brought my sleeping bag."

"I guess I'll take the chair," Country said. "And since Flowchart and Scene are dating, it'd be the least awkward if they got the bed together."

_Then that leaves me curled up on the stupid seats_, I thought._Whatever._

We drove on in silence for a while - it was something like fifteen minutes. I'll admit I'd drifted off to sleep for a bit, until a bright light penetrated my eyelids and I heard Scene gasp.

"It's so _pretty_," she breathed, and I sat up and opened my eyes in time to see her right cheek shoved against the window of the bus. Since she didn't have the window seat, however, she was laying half on top of Flowchart, effectively kneeing him in the balls.

"Yes," Flowchart groaned, "We're here."

"Is there any place to discretely park a school bus 'round here?" Country asked. "I don't want to draw too much attention to my self."

"Just find a vacant lot or something," I piped. "I think we all need to get out of here and breathe a bit."

"How many vacant lots do you think a large tourist city like Vegas would have?" Flowchart asked.

I shrugged. "Fine, then. A casino parking lot should do just fine. Or just pull over on the side of the road."

Before I could even finish my sentence, our bus was in the middle of some casino back lot. After we came to a stop, Indie stood up and faced us.

"Okay, kids. We're here."


	3. Day Two: The Cops

**Country's POV**

I woke up to a loud banging noise. It sounded like it was coming from outside of the bus, and the entire vehicle shook. I reverted the recliner to normal chair status, stood up, and rubbed my eyes.

"Yo, Larry!" I heard some girl outside yell. "There anyone in there?"

"I think so, J," Larry called back, and I leaned over Scene and Flowchart to look out of a window. Larry pointed a stringy finger at me. "I was right!"

After stepping over Straight Edge, I walked to the front of the bus and opened the door. I stepped onto the ground and faced the two people. I could tell by their uniforms that they were cops.

"Hello," said the girl. "The name is Jesse. You're...?"

"I'm Country." I offered my hand to Jesse, but she didn't shake it.

"No, honey. You're real name."

"Oh, Carrie."

I heard a loud buzzing and looked up to see Indie poking his head out of an emergency exit window. "What's going on out here?"

"Who drives this vehicle?" Larry asked.

"Me," Indie replied sternly, and removed his head from the window before closing it. I heard a loud thud promptly followed by a groan from inside, and then Indie met us outside. "Why?"

"You were parked illegally, sir." Jesse extended a pair of handcuffs. "And you never left, so you're also trespassing. We're going to have to arrest you."

By this time, Flowchart, Scene, and Straight Edge had made their way out of the bus, too. Flowchart raised his hand slightly, and then spoke. "This isn't an arrest worthy manner, miss. The owner of this building should have talked to us first."

"They did," Jesse said. "An hour ago. No one responded."

"We were sleeping!" Straight Edge replied, clutching his stomach.

"And now you're resisting arrest." Larry reached for his pair of handcuffs, too, as another cop car pulled up for a total of three. Scene had her phone out, which Larry soon removed from her hands.

After a few minutes we were all ushered into the cramped police cars. It was two to a car for the most part, with Indie on his own. Flowchart and Straight Edge were together, and I was with Scene, who was crying. I patted her on the shoulder.

"It'll be okay, hon."

"I hope so."

_**{Vegas Lights}**_

"But miss, I don't know her number," I said to an old lady behind a counter at the police station. "I have it in my phone, and I can type it into the police phone once I get my cell. Someone else can hold it, I just need her number!"

"Fine." Counter-Lady reached under a ledge and took out a plastic bag. Inside was a phone. "What's her name in your contacts?"

"I.C.," I said, and the lady fumbled around with the bag a bit before shoving it in my face. I could just barely make out the numbers. "Thanks."

I grabbed the receiver of the blocky wall-phone they let you make your one phone call on. I typed in the number on the key pad, and listened for a response.

"OMG, you just reached the cell phone of, the one-and-only, Miss Jam-" I heard her voicemail say. I listened to the rest of it, and then said my message.

"Hey! Me and a few friends got arrested in Vegas," I told the receiver. "And I know you're here right now, so I need you to go down to the Vegas Police Department and bail us out."

I put the phone down and a cop led me back to holding. Indie was leaning against the bars with Straight Edge and a man with bits of fur sticking out of his mouth. Flowchart was trying to protect Scene from the ramblings of some drug dealer.

_You better get here soon_, I thought, and sat on a bench in the corner.

Half an hour later, I heard the fast-paced clicking of heels on the ground. "I don't care if I 'have to stay in the hotel'. I need to get my identical cousin out of this prison!"

I saw a cop and Idol turn a corner, promptly followed by a small man carrying a large camera and another man in an extremely crisp suit.

"But it's in your contract!" the crisp-suit man called as Idol ran towards me. "Plus, it's just holding!"

Idol ran over the cell and we met at the bars. The cop unlocked the cell, and called out our names. "Jeff, Melvin, Norma, Jeb, and Carrie. You're free to go."

We all left the cell, and Idol hugged me.

"Identical cousins!" we sang together.

"Touching reunion," the cop said. They were a frail woman, with shoulder-length, brown hair. "But we've got to get moving. You're stuff's at the counter." She led us to the area where I called Idol, and we were all handed little baggies with our phones and wallets.

"What'd you guys do?" Idol asked as we walked outside, and we all took turns piecing together the story.

"Damn," she said when we were done. "Sounds fun."

"It was!" Scene said. "There weren't enough police dogs, though."

"And the bus got towed." Straight Edge ran his hand through his hair. "So we're stuck."

"Oh, no you're not!" Idol led us around to the front parking lot of the precinct. "I'll take you back to the casino where the hotel I'm staying at is, in my limo."

_**{Vegas Lights}**_

The ride to the casino would have been a lot cooler if the producer of Idol's show hadn't talked through the entire thing, ranting about her contract and loyalty. Eventually we got to the casino, though, and we had to say bye to my identical cousin.

"Well," Indie said once Idol had gone back to her room. "Since we didn't get any less broke after that experience, we should probably count up our money to see if we have enough to get a cab and get our bus back."

We all took out our wallets and counted our money. I had $31, Indie had $6 (in dimes), Straight Edge was broke, Flowchart left his wallet in the bus, and Scene had 132 Dum-Dum wrappers.

"If I'm not mistaken, $37 won't be enough to get our bus back," Flowchart said.

"Shut up, Flowchart." Indie walked over to the border of the area sectioned off for slot machines. "We're all 21, right?" Everyone nodded, and Indie stepped passed the barriers. "$37 and an immense amount of candy wrappers may not be enough for a one-way-ticket back home, but it is enough to play some slots."

Scene made some sort of bizarre noise, which was cut off after a few seconds. "Wait, what are slots?"


End file.
